


Rising

by GoldScribbles



Category: The Grisha Trilogy - Leigh Bardugo
Genre: Alternate Ending - Ruin and Rising, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-11
Updated: 2018-09-11
Packaged: 2019-07-10 23:20:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15959708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoldScribbles/pseuds/GoldScribbles
Summary: This ain’t love, it’s clear to see. But darling,stay with me.





	Rising

**xxx**

“You could stay with me,” he says quietly. He gives the bottle another turn. “I still need a queen.”

She rises from her chair and nudges his feet off the little stool, settling on it to look up at him. “I’m not the Sun Summoner anymore, Nikolai. I’m not even Alina Starkov. I don’t _want_ to return to court.”

A muscle in his jaw twitches when he smiles. “When has it ever been so easy to get what you want?” 

“When you want to kill a saint, it’s easier than breathing.”

“If you paid attention to the stories, you’d know saints rarely have such control over their deaths, much less stage one as elaborate as yours.”

“Are you pouting because we didn’t include you in the planning?”

“I’m brooding. It adds to my charm.”

She laughs. “We’re all set to watch me burn today. I doubt you could find a better ending to the myth of Sankta Alina.”

“That sounds suspiciously like a challenge.”

She pokes his knee. “You have more pressing concerns than a funeral. Like picking a suitable bride instead of a commoner to strut around the Grand Palace with.”

He doesn’t laugh like she expected him to. Instead he taps his chest. “But you understand this...thing.” 

_Merzost._ Darkness.

Her grin dies. She understands it all too well. You could hate it and hunger for it at the same time.

She swallows, gesturing to his hand. “May I?”

He offers it without hesitation. “Ah yes. You never did swear fealty to your new king.”

She grabs him by the wrist, deliberately pinching skin, before gently touching the tips of his fingers. They both watch as she traces the dark lines running from knuckle to nail. She recalls the terrible snarls he made, and the sharp scrape of his teeth on her neck. Her throat tightens at the memory of darkness spreading over his hazel eyes like ink in clear water. 

The Darkling was supposed to make a monster out of her, but instead he did it to her polished, noble prince.

_Korol Rezni._

“If I still had even a sliver of his powers—”

“If it means his power is gone from this world for good, then it is a small price to pay.” He tangles their fingers together and lifts her hand to his lips. “I am only sorry that it cost you yours.”

He means it to be a balm to soothe her loss, but it still aches like a phantom limb. Was it a scar from her severed connection to the Darkling, or just the absence of her powers? She isn’t sure there’s a difference.

“It’s a small price to pay for the safety of Ravka,” she says, and tries to mean it.

“Spoken like a queen.” He smiles when she scoffs and pulls her hand away. “I am nothing if not persistent.”

“I’d only be a liability.” She pulls out the Lantsov emerald and sets it on his knee. “You said so yourself. Power is alliance.”

“I do love it when you quote me.” He picks it up and turns it over, watching the stone gleam in the firelight. “A Shu princess then? A buxom Fjerdan? A Kerch magnate’s daughter?”

“Kerch would be the safest bet since it’s a neutral country,” she reasons, “but it’s your choice.”

“My choice has a problem with the word yes.”

“Nikolai.”

“My choice is of Ravka, which tragically means no political alliance, but she is not without influence.” He looks at her, and she fists her hands in the fabric of her sarafan. “The people love her.”

“They love the sun summoner,” she says bitterly. “What good am I now that I’m not Grisha?”

“Plenty good if you are queen.” He takes her hand again, thumb stroking her knuckles. “The Darkling is gone. Ravka has no use for a saint anymore, but we need leaders. We need the Second Army to protect us from our enemies in the north and in the south now that the enemy within is dead.” He tilts his head with a sigh. “Also money, but that will have to come later.”

“Zoya and Genya can help you rebuild the Second Army. They’ll listen to one of them.”

“You underestimate yourself. Everyone knows you destroyed the Fold. Grisha far and wide will come to serve you.”

She stands and turns her back to him in frustration. “They’ll come to follow the sun summoner. That’s not who I am anymore. I’m a nobody.”

“Do you know what we call Grisha who have lost their powers?” he asks, and she reluctantly glances at him over her shoulder. “Grisha still.”

The surety of his voice and the steadiness of his gaze pierces her bravado. She covers her face with her hands as her body trembles from the effort to keep her sorrow silent. He didn’t understand. He knows all the right things to say, but pretty words can’t distract her from the terrible absence inside. 

Warm, scarred hands settle on her shoulders. “If you still had your powers, what would you do?”

“I don’t—” 

“Indulge me. Just this once.” His voice sounds deeper in the quiet room as he leads her back to the chairs. “Let us live in the fantasy where I am a Lantsov by birth and you can summon sunlight at will. What did that girl want?”

“Peace for Ravka. Sleep without fear. An end to the guilt.” It surprises her how easy it was to say her private thoughts out loud. 

“What would she do now in this situation?”

“You already know,” she murmurs. “We were planning the future during the war.”

“You never gave me an answer.”

She can’t bring herself to look at him. “I would have stayed. For Ravka.”

“What did Alina Starkov want?”

The fireplace crackles loudly in the silence.

This was harder to admit. “To be loved for who I am, not what I could do.”

“I can’t imagine the sun summoner not wanting that too.” He touches her colored hair, drawing her eyes to him at last. “Do you think Mal is the only one who could love you?”

She freezes. He’s always been mindful of her feelings for Mal, her only exposed nerve. To have him presses down on it so casually stuns her. 

“Was he the only one you could imagine wanting?”

“ _Nikolai._ ” His name scrapes her throat. Pain lances through her, as though he struck her with the Cut. Firelight casts half of his features in shadow, and for a moment she doesn’t see Nikolai, but the Darkling sitting before her. A quick blink dispels the apparition, but she has to resist the impulse to grab his hands and check that the lines haven’t darkened or spread further.

“I...I had a taste for someone else once.” She doesn’t speak the name, but it still robs her lungs of air. “He made me want him, made me question myself.” _Made me weak. Made me belong._

“Are you afraid that will happen again?” He curls his fingers into his palms, as if to hide the darkness lining his skin. “Because I have something left of him inside me?”

“No,” she denies immediately. “ _No._ It has nothing to do with these scars. I just...I don’t have those feelings for you.”

“I’m not asking for love, Alina.”

 _That_ gets under her skin. “Why not? Isn’t that something you should want in a marriage?”

“Even after all we’ve seen, you still believe in fairytales?” 

“Says the _king._ ”

He smiles at her. “I’m really going to miss you when you leave.”

She ignores how her heart thumped at his words. “Not if you’re doing your job properly. Besides, I doubt you’re the lovesick type.”

“I can be whatever you want.”

“I want you to be yourself around me.”

“And who shall I be when you’re gone?”

Alina looks at him and sees through his playful demeanor to the weight of their fragile country resting on his shoulders. It softens her tone when she responds. “You’ll be king.”

He looks down at his hands, the air around him thickening. “Somehow, it’s not what I imagined it would be. _Korol Rezni_ , was it?”

“King of Ravka,” she corrects firmly, taking hold of his hands, “and the country’s best chance to rebuild.”

His fingers curl around hers tightly. “Seems fair. You took care of the Darkling. I’ll handle reconstruction.”

“I didn’t do it alone. We all stopped him together.”

“Take the credit, Alina.” He flips her hand over and places the Lantsov emerald in her palm. “Also this.”

“How much of that kvas have you drunk?”

“None. Keep it. Please.”

“Nikolai, I can’t.”

“I owe you, Alina. Ravka owes you. This and more. Do good works or commission an opera house or just take it out and gaze at it longingly when you think of the handsome prince you might have made your own. For the record, I favor the latter option, preferably paired with copious tears and the recitation of bad poetry.”

She laughs, feeling her eyes sting. “Handsome _king._ ”

He smiles. “Of course. I don’t know how I’ll rule without you constantly reminding me of my title. I might leave the crown on a vegetable stand and then the monarchy will truly be doomed.”

Alina turns the ring over in her hand. “I’ll think about it.”

He rolls his eyes. “What is your aversion to the word yes?”

She blinks her tears away. “Thank you.”

He leans back. “We were friends. Weren’t we?”

“Don’t be an ass, Nikolai. We _are_ friends. Partners even.”

He grins, but the tone of his question rattles her. Tired and weary. Guard always up. 

“I wish you could come with me.” She doesn’t know it’s true until she unwittingly says it out loud. “Find some rest after everything.”

He chuckles. “Rest. Is that what we’re calling it? We are braver than this, Alina.” At her confusion, he smiles patiently. “This is an escape plan. You and Mal are running off into the sunset.”

There’s nothing in his tone that suggests judgement, but shame colors her face nonetheless. Running off was a kind way of saying running away. 

Nonetheless she presses on. “Come with us, Nikolai. It’s what we deserve.”

“That’s not how this works, lovely.”

“Look at how they talk. Your coronation hasn’t taken place yet and they’re already questioning you.”

“Don’t be dramatic. They’ve always questioned me.” He reaches out and strokes her cheekbone with his thumb. “I appreciate you missing me already though.”

She rolls her eyes, but leans into his touch. 

“I don’t hear a denial.” He bends his head closer to her. 

A reluctant smile tugs at her lips. “You’ve always been hard of hearing.”

He laughs, pressing his forehead against hers. She joins in, distantly wondering if she would ever be this close to him again. 

He doesn’t move away when the laughter fades. “I still want to kiss you, Alina.”

She’s sure he can feel her blush warming his palm. 

“Nikolai.” She pulls away slightly and his hand falls to her waist. 

“If I wait for you to think only of me, I’ll be waiting for the rest of my years. So I’ll ask again in spite of that. Can I? Just once more?”

She freezes, helpless as he draws nearer. The quiet want reflected in his eyes sends her pulse skittering. The gold flecks in his irises gleam at her like sunlight. He stops a breath away from her, his soft exhale tickling her lips. 

_What about Mal? You can’t do this to him._

“Alina. Say yes. Please.”

The hitch in his voice when he whispers _please_ , when he _begs_ , quiets the conflict inside her. She can only look at him in wonder. Nikolai doesn’t do this. He’s all banter and charm, his masks firmly layered in place so that he always has the upper hand. Somehow, with that one word, Alina thinks she’s reached the last nesting doll. and it is nothing like the ostentatious outer layers. 

This was the secret Nikolai Lantsov guarded the most. All she has to do is open it. 

Her eyes fall to his lips. What did he want her to say yes to? The kiss? The throne? The ring? Or maybe— 

A knock echoes in the room, startling her. 

“It seems we are out of time,” he murmurs.

She turns to see Mal standing in the doorway, with Tolya glowering at his back. 

“Are you ready?” he asks, blue eyes alert and wary. Her face burns with the shame of being desired by other men.

“She was just saying goodbye,” Nikolai replies, sounding further away. The chill against her side confirms the distance between them.

“We don’t have much time left.” Mal holds his hand out to her. Instinctively, Alina moves toward him, this handsome boy she’s loved for as long as she’s known him. The one who loves her now. But when she reaches him and takes his hand, there’s a question in her head that makes her look back.

_What about Nikolai?_

He’s leaning back casually in his chair, looking contemplatively at a glass of kvas in his gloved hand. Something twists in her chest to see his layers back on, as impenetrable as armor. He needs it to be king, she reasons, especially with Apparat still in play.

His hazel eyes meet hers. He lifts his glass at her with a quirk of his lips, looking for all the world to see like a man without a care, instead of a haunted king tasked with stitching a bankrupt, war-torn country together again. 

Alina’s throat tightens. 

How could she leave him to face this alone?

_What about my happiness?_

She turns back to Mal and steps into his arms, wanting his comforting warmth to drive the chill away from her sunless bones. 

“No, we don’t,” she whispers, her words muffled against his shoulder. 

The door closes behind her.

**xxx**

Nikolai scrutinizes his reflection in the mirror, looking for an invisible wrinkle on his immaculate First Army uniform.

“Preening as usual, I see.”

He whirls around at her voice, and she’s proud of putting the stunned look on his face. 

“What are you doing here?” he asks haltingly. His clever eyes take in her white hair, her blue and gold kefta, and her convincing false amplifiers circling her neck and wrist. She sees him arrive at the answer to his question, but struggle to believe in its truth. She decides to be merciful.

Alina closes the distance between them, and gently removes his leather gloves so that there are no barriers between them. 

“Ask me again, Nikolai,” she commands softly, pressing an item into his palm. “Ask me what we’ve always needed from each other.”

He rifles through his memories, looking for the exact thing she wants to hear. 

_Nikolai don’t do this._

__

__

_I still need a queen._

Understanding dawns on his face. He lifts up her left hand and presses his lips to her knuckles. 

“Stay with me.”

He slips the Lantsov Emerald onto her finger. In return, she tangles their fingers together.

“Okay.”

**xxx**

Just as tinder starts to smolder and spark, the Sun Summoner’s corpse takes a sharp inhale, and sits up.

A deafening roar rattles the skies. Nikolai quickly orders the shocked Inferni to extinguish the flames as she slowly rises to her feet before the inconsolable crowd. 

_Sankta Alina! Sankta Alina!_

The people scream of miracles and sob their devotion to the reborn saint.

**xxx**

**End**


End file.
